Why Are You Covered In Slime
by dance-tilyou'redead
Summary: Quinn needs to discover what Santana has been hiding from her. AU from mid Season 3. Really hard to summarize. If you check out the first chapter I'll be your friend forever.
1. Apocalypse Soonish

It's a week before the first outbreak is seen in Tokyo when I'm sitting in Ms Pillsbury's office making mini sculptures out of her magnetic paperclip thing. She's running late which is pretty typical for her. I imagine it probably has something to do with her inability to use the staff toilets without performing a half hour cleansing of the toilet seat. The woman's got issues and I wonder for not the first time how it's appropriate for someone with such a severe disorder to be counseling anyone.

Finally Ms P comes through the door with a wide smile, huge eyes glistening brightly. She tugs a pair of latex gloves off her fingers and disposes them—the gloves, not her fingers—in a bin hidden behind her desk. She goes through her usual ritual of straightening her already straight pamphlets and swiping a disinfectant wipe along the shining surface of her already spotless desk. Once the wipes are fastidiously disposed of Ms P sits straight up in her chair. Clasping her hands together on the desk she stairs at me with her giant Bambi eyes.

I wait patiently for her to start our session. The longer it takes for her to start, the later I can get away with getting to Math. Mr Saverson has been up my butt about my tardiness since my first week of Senior year when I had arrived late for the first lesson. His dislike of me may also have been aggravated by the fact that I had pink hair, a nose ring and had called him a fascist dictator.

I had some issues to work through okay?

That's a part of why I'm in Ms P's office at all. My issues have been getting me into trouble and she is meant to be talking me through them. There is of course every chance that I should be seeing a professional therapist rather than an under qualified and underpaid school counsellor but whatever.

Ms P finally breaks the silence, "So Quinn, how has your week been? Have you punched anyone or performed any acts of vandalism."

I feel one eyebrow climb it's way up my forehead of it's own accord. Sadly, this isn't the first time she's opened up our little sessions with this question. She's pretty much asked some variation of it every week for the past 5 weeks. Ever since I punched Finn in the face and then smashed in his windshield with a baseball bat(retrieved from the sports supplies room). I didn't manage to break his nose unfortunately but his windshield had taken some time getting replaced. The bonus being that Finn had to catch the bus to school. I would have thought that Kurt would give Finn a ride to school but apparently Finn had managed to make an ass of himself with Kurt as well. Probably some atrociously homophobic comment made in the midst of one of his self righteous speeches.

I smirk as I answer her question, "No Ms Pillsbury, I haven't performed any acts of violence this week."

"Well that's excellent Quinn. Have you had any more thoughts on why you felt the need to violate Finn Hudson's person and property?"

Again this is a question I have been asked several times and by several different people. I give the same response I always do, "I was having a bad day."

Ms P nods as though she had expected this answer. She should expect it since I have no intention of sharing any other. The truth is: it _wasn't_ just a bad day that had me swinging that bat into Finn's car. A bad day usually has me buying chocolate or McDonalds on the way home. A really bad day might have me crying into my pillows. A really, really bad day might have found me picking a fight with Santana so I would have an excuse for a physical confrontation with someone. The day that I nearly broke Finn's smug face had been fine. Great even. I had sent away all the forms that would guarantee my scholarships for the entire first year's tuition at Yale. I had received an A- on an exam that I hadn't studied for and on top of that my mum had called me during lunch to tell me her first big contract as a real estate agent had gone through.

The good or bad qualities of my day had nothing to do with it. The reason I had marched up to Finn with anger thrumming through my body and clocked him good had nothing to do with _me_ at all. The reason I had felt such a burning desire to punch a man-child _double_ my body weight came in the form of a person. More specifically a girl. A girl named Rachel Berry. Now I know what you're thinking: Quinn, you don't even like that girl, why would you punch a person because of her?

The answer is simple. I was completely in love with Rachel. I'm sure you're thinking that I have somehow lost my mind. That I have somehow forgotten all the reasons that I tortured the girl mercilessly for three years. As it is, the _reason_ that I tortured her above every other person in the school is because I loved her so damn much. I'm a despicable cliche and I truly want to kick my own ass. Every part of me including the good-christian-girl parts _plus_ the popular-cheerleader parts has warred against the feelings that had me mooning over a midget in argyle.

Now the more observant of you may have noticed my use of _past_ tense here. It is true, after 3 years, 8 months and I'm not sure how many days I am _finally_ getting over my unwarranted and unrequited love for Rachel Berry. After my little incident with Finn, I had been forced to face facts and accept the straight elephant in the room. Even after my stupidly valiant attempts to defend Rachel's honor she had continued to ignore and otherwise rebuke my every attempt at flirtation. She had even gone so far as to befriend Brittany to avoid any time we might have been alone.

_Sigh._

Back in Ms P's office I am forced from my thoughts when the bright eyed woman clears her throat and gives me a pointed look. I'm meant to give her my anger management worksheet. I grab the bright Pink pamphlet out of my bag and slide it across the desk. The title of the pamphlet containing the worksheet matches the rest that are in her office.

'So You Have Some Anger _And_ Self Control Issues.'

I'd filled out the questions during Math yesterday instead of completing the class exercises. All of my answers for the pamphlet were lies and designed to illustrate a 'sane' Quinn Fabray. I know I have issues but I also know that discussing those issues with the woman in front of me will not help any of them. Ms P takes the pamphlet and scans over my answers. Her brow furrows as though she knows my answers are all fabrications.

She sighs and files it away in what must be a rather fat manilla folder with my name on it, "Well Quinn, why don't we talk about what you've been up to this week and what your goals are for next week."

I lean back in my chair and prepare my default responses which I know will keep me from math that little bit longer.

– –

Three days later, I am on my way to my car after Glee club and I notice Santana and Rachel walking with purpose towards the gym. They are bickering angrily as always, pointing and gesturing between themselves and their destination. My interest is piqued and I move to follow them. They have been fighting more and more lately and despite my waning affection for Rachel, I still feel that need to know what she is doing at all hours of the day.

I squat behind the nearest car when they stop their arguing long enough to turn around and scan their surroundings. I glance around from my position as well and see no one nearby.

I hear Rachel's voice a little more clearly because I am only, maybe 30 feet from them, "Santana, I got the call on this mission first which means that I am in charge and you have to do what _I_ say."

Santana huffs audibly, "Fine, but if we get killed it is _so_ not my fault."

I hear the doors to the gym open and then close. I sprint towards the double doors as quickly as I can and press my ear against the crack between them. The sound from inside is muffled well. I wonder if the gym hasn't been sound proofed by Coach Sylvester in some insane attempt to keep competing teams from spying on the Cheerios. I strain me ears and pick up what sounds something like one of Puck's video games. There's growling and screaming and something like laser-gun fire.

I rest my hand against the long metal bar that serves as a handle in the door debating whether or not I just burst into the room to see what's going on. When a loud scream is followed by the sound of a gunshot I forget all hesitation and open the doors.

What I find on the other side is _not_ what I was expecting. Actually, I have no idea what I was expecting. What I had _heard_ suggested some kind of science fiction, monster movie. What I _find_ is Rachel and Santana locked in an embrace. They're hugging and laughing as though they had just won a Show Choir championship—or in Santana's case, cheerleading Nationals.

When I see that they and the gym floor surrounding them is covered in a gloopy, transparent sludge I can't stop the words, "What the hell?" leaping from my mouth.

They snap apart as though caught in a compromising position, both hiding something behind their backs. I catch a glimpse of a solid looking object in Rachel's hands. I have no idea what it is but it has a handle attached to what could be the barrel of a gun except that it has blinking lights and containes some kind of glowing, golden fluid. The gun looking object also seams to be releasing jets of steam at random intervals. With Rachel's hands behind her back there continues to be small jets of steam escaping from behind her dissipating above her head.

Santana is the first to react to Quinn's question, "Ah, Quinn what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? What are you two doing here? And why are you covered in slime?" I counter, gesturing to the both of them in their slimed state.

Santana looks at Rachel who continues to direct her wide eyed stare at me.

Finally Santana returns her gaze back to me, "Um, we're just trying out some new special effects for Glee."

I scoff at this, "Since when would you be doing something like that Santana? That's what AV nerds are for isn't it?"

Santana looks momentarily stumped and Rachel steps forward, "Yes Quinn, ordinarily you would be quite correct in your assertions but I wanted to try something experimental and—"

I hold up my hand to interrupt her, "You know what, never mind." I know that she is lying. I spent enough time covertly watching her to know how her body language changes when she lies.

Rachel looks a little hurt at the interruption and I ignore the impulse to soothe her worry and hurt. I glare at them both with a look which clearly states _I'm watching you_ and quickly exit the gym. Whatever they're up to, I'll get to the bottom of it even if I have to follow Rachel...or Santana all week.

– –

Nothing interesting happens again until a full four days later when Ms Pillsbury rushes into the choir room half way through Glee club practice and interrupts Mr Schuesters latest weekly lesson on...whatever.

Ms P looks pretty panicked and we hear a few words as she whispers into Mr Schue's ear. We all hear the words 'international crisis', 'infected' and 'Tokyo'. When Mr Schue follows Ms P out of the choir room we all pull out our phones and direct to the browser. Mike is the first to find the international news on .

"An estimated ten thousand people are dead as an infection spreads throughout the city of Tokyo," he reads, glancing up from his phone with a shocked expression undoubtedly reflected in all of us. "On-the-ground sources suggest that the infection is something completely unheard of with the infected persons apparently 'dying' before standing up and attempting to bite or eat those closest to them. Those bitten then suffer the same symptoms, apparently dying and then waking up to infect those closest to them."

Puck interrupts, "No fucking way Chang! That's not unheard of. That's freakin zombies. 'Apparently dead' people getting up and trying to bite the people nearest to them? Definitely freakin zombies."

Sam nods his agreement, "Yeah, c'mon guys you have to admit it does sound a little zombie apocalypse-y"

Rachel interrupts him and my attention is instantly diverted to her, "Don't be ridiculous Puck. And Sam, there is no need to be inciting any unwarranted panic with talk of zombies or any other such nonsense. Okay?"

Sam looks suitable chastised and sinks back into his seat. I'm forced to wonder when he started taking direction from Rachel. Last I checked(which was pretty recently) they barely spoke to one another.

Puck is less quick to let his theory go, "The zombie apocalypse is here guys and I don't know about you but I am freakin excited."

Half the club roll their eyes as you would expect but I can't help but notice a few exceptions. Sam and Mike sit up straight in their chairs, eying Rachel discreetly. Tina and Brittany inexplicably bump fists including that mini hand explosion thing Puck tried to teach me to do. Santana and Rachel exchange a tense glance from across the room. My interest is instantly drawn to the two the two of them. They seem to be sharing a silent communication and I'm at a loss when they both nod and return their gazes to the front of the room. Rachel folds her arms tightly across her chest and Santana picks up Brittany's hand to absently play with her fingers.

I'm glad Santana and Brittany seem to be back to their old selves. I was very worried about what would happen when they broke up. They both, of course came to me crying through their various explanations. I never did manage to figure out what happened to their relationship but I had done my best to keep them from drowning in their sorrows.

For Brittany my contribution to her recovery was mass amounts of sugar while watching the entire Harry Potter movie franchise in two days with her. Two days was all she got though and it had surprised me when Rachel was the one to collect her from my house. Brittany didn't cry very much and she didn't talk about what happened but she held me tightly to her chest before she left with one arm wrapped around Rachel's. The shorter girl wrapped her arm around Brittany's waist as she guided her to her car. I'd watched them go and tried not to wonder if Rachel would be there for me in the same way she was for Brittany.

Santana got the following three days of my life to drench my shoulder in tears. We consumed copious amounts of alcohol while watching endless reruns of Will & Grace, Friends and Frasier. Some of the time was spent in companionable silence, Santana's arms wrapped around me but most of our time was spent with me listening to Santana cry. She sobbed and blubbered for hours at a time about how wonderful and beautiful Brittany is and how much she wished they had what it took to stay together. It made my heart ache to listen to her cry like that. I wanted to know what had happened between them but Santana would just shake her head any time I tried to ask.

Seeing the two sitting together in Glee, their hands intwined made me smile. I wondered if they were still sleeping together, just minus all the relationship stuff. I hoped not. They both needed their best friend back and more than anything, they needed a healthy relationship. They both had become so destructive with all their jealousies and relationship drama that they needed to pause and reassess what they meant to one another without the complication of sex.

My eyes find Rachel again as they usually do and I see her frowning deeply. When Finn wraps an arm across her shoulders she shakes him off. I smile at the action before reminding myself that I'm over Rachel Berry and that I don't care if she is getting along with her once-fiancé. They were no longer engaged since Rachel had delayed the wedding to the point of canceling it.

While I had, of course been elated at the canceling of their engagement, I had been less pleased at the announcement that they would still be boyfriend/girlfriend. I wondered why they didn't just breakup all together but I also knew that I was exceedingly biased. This bias is what had caused me to swing a full sized baseball bat at Finn's car.

Finn had been yelling at Rachel, explaining how she was all kinds of selfish for wanting to follow her dreams to New York even though Finn had no idea if he wanted to leave Lima. For not the first time, I wondered what anyone saw in the big oaf. His words, while awful weren't enough to make me snap though. It was when he took that extra step into Rachel's personal space and grabbed her arms hard enough to bruise that I'd had enough. I leaped out of my seat and called his name loud enough that he would turn around to face me. I pulled up every ounce of strength left to me from Cheerio's so that I could jump high enough to clobber my fist into his nose.

The sickening crunch was unfortunately not the sound of his nose breaking so much as the bones shifting in my fist but it was completely worth the minor dislocation of my second and third phalanx bones to see Finn's face crumple in pain. The two black eyes he was sporting days after were another fringe benefit.

The words that followed caused me to progress to a baseball bat and the destruction of Finn's windscreen, "What the hell is wrong with you Quinn? No wonder you can't get a boyfriend when you go around hitting guys for no reason!"

What, can I say? We've all known that Finn was far from the sharpest tool in the shed. I should probably have taken his words as another Finn-ism he would eventually apologise for. I should probably have come back with some retort about his puffy pyramid nipples. I could have kneed in him in the balls. None of these things seemed enough though when I saw the tears that were welling up in Rachel's eye's as she shifted back to her seat, rubbing at her upper arms.

On that day, as Rachel rubbed at the red marks caused by Finn's careless hands I shot him my iciest glare and walked out of the choir room, towards the sports department. Santana tried to follow me but I shook her off and forced her to stay and to sure that Rachel was okay.

On this day, as Rachel puts distance between herself and Finn I am glad that I reacted the way I that did. She told me just a few weeks ago that my reaction to the way Finn was treating her had made her think twice about their relationship. That conversation had taken place—unsurprisingly—in a deserted bathroom. I don't know what it is about the bathrooms at McKinley but they seem to have the right resonances for life altering conversations between myself and Rachel Berry.

I check the time on my phone to see that we only have another 5 minutes left of Glee. I have important plans for this afternoon and it's time to make them happen. I decided after the incident in the gym that I would need to follow Rachel and Santana after the next glee practice. I didn't know if they would leave together like they did after the last late afternoon practice but I figured it was a possibility.

I slip quietly from the room as everyone else is pulling their things together. Sprinting down the hallway I position myself so that I can see the doorway to the choir room. Mercedes and Kurt then Rory and Finn are the first ones to leave and wander down the hallway. I wait for the others to appear in twos and threes so I can shadow Santana and Rachel, following them to wherever it is they go after these Glee practices.

I'm getting impatient by the time anyone else appears. Before I can cave to the urge to creep back towards the door Mike and Sam appear in the hallway, talking animatedly and making broad motions with their hands. Sugar, Puck and Blain are the next to leave followed closely by Brittany and Tina. The two girls are talking animatedly making small motions with their hands as though demonstrating the assembly of small building blocks. I have no idea what the two could have to talk about other than dancing. They seem to have absolutely nothing in common and I am quite convinced that I have never really seen them engaged in any conversation between just the two of them.

I'm interrupted in my contemplation of this particular puzzle when Rachel and Santana finally leave the choir room and move down the hallway, away from where I am hiding in the shadows. I follow them hurriedly, glad that I'd chosen to wear flat boots today rather than my cork wedges. I'm able to sneak after them without making any noticeable sound and I'm following far enough away that even if they turn around, they shouldn't notice me. I'm also glad of Coach Sylvester's insane military training as I muffle my steps carefully against the linoleum of the hallway.

My quarry moves through the carpark and I worry for a moment what I will do if they get into a car together. My training never included any vehicle assisted tailing and I know that I will be found out pretty quickly if they do. Luckily they move beyond the boundary of the carpark and into the square stretch of grass which is the William McKinley Park. The kilometer stretch of grass represents the best piece of greenery in Lima outside of the football field and it includes quite a few large tree. These trees provide my best shelter as I follow Rachel and Santana from about 50 feet behind them.

The two continue to cast covert glances behind them but I remain in the shadows. They leave the park at the other end of it and cut across the street through a deserted house block. I follow them for another three block before they finally stop in front of a big old house I actually drive past on my way to school. There is a big brick fence that runs around the perimeter of the property and I rush forward, worried that I'll miss where they go next. If they enter the property at an entrance which isn't immediately obvious I could lose them.

I creep forward behind a few cars parked on the same side of the street as the house. I can see Santana and Rachel arguing quietly right up until Santana reaches out with one hand and taps on something I can't see in the fence. Their faces are lit up slightly and a computerized voice demands, "Password."

Santana leans towards the light source and says clearly and succinctly, "Hummingbird."

She then taps a six digit code into what must be a control panel just out of my eye line. My cheerios military training kicks in again as I listen to the small beeps which indicate which numbers are being pressed. Zero, six, two, zero, one, zero. A door opens immediately and Rachel steps through the gap. Santana casts one more glance around before entering and allowing the door to slam shut behind her.

I dash forward immediately to see a large steel door settling against its frame. Beside the door, at eye level is a control panel with a speaker and an array of buttons like on a telephone. As I wonder how to activate the password procedure a small blue light turns on and a quiet electronic voice prompts, "Password,".

I force back the stammer which threatens to escape my lips as I say clearly, "Hummingbird."

There is no response from the machine so I quickly punch in the code I had heard Santana entering, hoping that it is for anyone who would enter and not Santana specifically. I breath a sigh of relief as the door opens and I can cross through it and onto the other side of the fence.

What I find on the other side surprises me. Rather than an enclosed front yard as you would expect from looking at the house from the street I find myself at the top of a broad staircase leading down into a large, darkened space. There was little light available and my eyes were having trouble adjusting to the dimness of the space which _felt_ massive. I couldn't see much but there was that smell and feel to the air which suggested an open space like you would find in a gym or a theatre. My footsteps were frighteningly loud even as I tried my best to muffle them. I crouched down with the fingertips of one hand resting against the cool floor to help maintain my balance, my other arm resting across my raised knee.

Before I can fully adjust to the dark and determine my next move I hear a buzzing noise and fluorescent lights heat up and flicker on overhead. I stand up straight and shield my eyes from the sudden glare. I can hear several people moving about below me and the blurry shapes quickly coalesce into people I know.

Rachel and Santana stand at the front of a group which includes Brittany, Tina, Sam, Mike Puck, Blaine and Sugar as well as, inexplicably Jessie StJames.

The group looks up at me as a new person enters and a voice I've come to know well finally breaks the silence, "Nice of you to join us Quinn."

I'm completely at a loss as I turn to see Shelby Corcoran enter the room wearing an authoritative looking lab coat and a smirk. I know that my jaw is hanging open but I can't seem to bring myself to close it as I look around at my friends. And Jessie. His presence is hardest to rationalise and really guides me to thinking that I must have hit my head at some point and am only dreaming this. I pinch my leg subtly to make sure that I can feel it. I pinch hard enough to bruise and I wince a little at the pain I cause myself. I stare at them across the vast space as they stare back at me.

It's extremely unsettling and I flick my gaze around the room quickly to assess my options. My back is still to the door by which I entered and I know that the wall stretches out for about thirty feet on either side. I'm standing at the top of a flight of approximately ten stairs which drops down about a half story to a wide open space that vaguely resembles the lobby of a corporate building in a large city. There are fake plants in the corners and a large water feature off to one side. There are also large, expensive looking couches lined up through the centre of the room. Everything in the room looks expensive with each surface rendered to a high polish. The wall opposite me is probably fifty feet away and my friends plus Jessie and Shelby are a few feet in front of the set of double glass doors that had closed after Shelby had entered.

I shake myself out of the shocked stupor and try to think of something intelligent to say. The best I can come up with is, "What is this place?"

Shelby smiles knowingly, "This is the foyer of ARH," she says simply. "Santana and Rachel will show you around," and with that she turns around and leaves me standing with my mouth open and a billion questions racing through my mind.

The glass doors open again and Shelby disappears into the darkness beyond them. Britt smiles and waves warmly at me as Tina punches in a complicated code on a panel beside a normal looking door to the left of the glass double doors. Puck, Sam, Mike, Blain and Sugar are the next to exit through a door to the right. Blain is the one to punch in the keycode.

Finally, it's just me, Jesse, Santana and Rachel. All three are smiling at me, Rachel warmly, Santana calculatedly and Jesse with some amusement. Jesse strides forward until he is standing at the bottom of stairs I have taken residence on. I take a careful step down and am surprised to find that my legs are actually quite steady as is my breathing and heart rate.

I ignore the way that Jesse's hand extends to 'help' me down the stairs and stride towards Santana and Rachel as they stand casually together, "Is anyone planning on letting me know what the hell is going on here?" I demand of them both.

Jesse clears his throat behind me but Santana throws him a cold glare, "Don't you have somewhere to be StJames?"

Jesse's expression darkens but he doesn't say anything as he exits through the door on the right, entering the code in with familiarity. I mentally catalogue the numbered key code along with the others incase I need any of them later.

Santana smiles as she glances between me and the door Jesse just entered, "Simmer down, Fabray we aren't gonna hold you captive. You don't have to memorize keycodes to get out of here."

I feel my body tense and then relax as I see the sincerity hidden beneath Santana's snark. Despite appearances, I actually had come to trust Santana. I know that she has my back and she knows that I'll have hers if a time came she needed me.

I see Rachel glance between me and the door I'd been memorizing the code for, "That's pretty impressive. You know the code just by hearing the tones?" I nod and she turns to Santana, "I thought you were a freak for that one Santana but obviously you aren't alone in that particular talent." she steps closer to me and smiles widely, "Just as Shelby indicated, we would like to welcome you to the LDC. We will answer all of your questions shortly. If you would like to follow Santana, she will lead you through a tour of the complex."

My eyes widen at the last statement, "You aren't coming with us?" I ask her worriedly.

"No, I'm afraid I have to excuse myself as I'll have to run some assessment parameters on this new problem in Japan. If there is a chance that the infection could spread to the United States then we need to be prepared." She nods towards Santana, "Agent Lopez here will run through the exposition for you."

"Agent Lopez?" I ask incredulously.

Santana smirks, "She's joking, we have no official titles except those on our pay packets. I'll go over that with you later. For now you're gonna have to follow me so we can get your security clearance run through Britt's system. You don't have any metal implants or anything do you? Cause this could get a little awkward if you do."

I just stare at her as though she had lost her mind.

"I'll take that as a no Blondie, but just so you know, if you _are_ packing metal replacement parts you had better let Brittany know _before_ she runs the program. I haven't seen it personally but I've been told that there has been some pretty amazing holes left in people _and_ their clothes while going through Brittany's screening process."

Rachel just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at Santana good naturedly, "Stop trying to scare her San, we want her on board remember."

Santana just shrugs and turns toward the door on the left as Rachel swipes something against a blinking module in the wall, opening the big glass doors. Santana keys in the code I remember as Rachel gives me a warm smile and leaves me to follow Santana.

We enter a bright hallway with light emanating from not only above us but also from the walls on either side. I wonder whether this is an aesthetic choice or if the additional ambient light serves a purpose. We walk past three doors before reaching the one we would go through.

Santana turns to me as the door clicks and she presses the door handle down, "Believe it Alice, the Rabbit Hole has nothing on us."

I take a deep breath as Santana opens the door to a whole new world.

* * *

AN:

This story is based on the speal in Lcrazemag's bio:

"_My favorite characters are Quinn, Santana, Rachel, Mike, Sam, Jesse, and Shelby… A fic containing **all** of those would receive my utmost devotion to reviews and praise- if well written. An apocalypse fic containing all those would probably kill me, haha. I do love my zombie fics.._

_Quinntana is my OTP, and Fapezberry is my ot3. So by default, I usually give those fics a shot no matter what_"

So thats where the idea for this story first came from although i may have diverted a little. Lol. Ongoing, think BTVS levels of violence with Zombieland style zombies which won't necesarilly be a focus. Like I said this is NOT a horror. Most likely the action/adventurey stuff will probably just lead to some sexy, post battle lady kisses(if my other stories are anything to go by). Especially if my readers demand it.

Im also gonna have a crack at explaining why Quinn was so completely nuts and Bipolar-appearing in Season 3.

Reviews are always, always appreciated


	2. Britt's Lab

I gaze around the huge room with wide eyes. I try to concentrate on making a quick assessment of the space including the nearest exits. I try to catalogue everything I can see. Unfortunately I can't seem to manage much of anything more than staring about with my mouth wide open in shock.

The space is probably half the size of the school gym with a ceiling just as high. There are rows of shelves and tables all stacked with mountains of gadgetry and scientific equipment. Some things I recognize. For example there is a chemistry set on one of the tables nearest the door. The table includes an array of bunsen burners, glass beakers, flasks and test tubes. Some of the beakers contain mystery fluids that swirl over low flames. There is a glitter canon in the corner that I recognize since it's a standard piece of Cheerios equipment. The rest of the room is a mess of foreign objects and complicated looking machinery, the possible uses of which are a complete mystery to me.

Closest to the door, set against the left wall is a set of shelves containing dozens of small machines. They vary in shape and size but all have wheels and cogs which continuously turn like the mechanism in a clock. Some of the machines have small glowing dials displaying numbers and—in some cases—strange words and phrases. Random phrases catch my attention including 'take the squirrels out dancing' and 'I hope the cat isn't hacking my Facebook account' confusing me further.

Closer to the back of the room is a massive caged off set of shelves. It reminds me strongly of the weapons cage I saw when my father took me to the shooting range a few years ago. The weapons I can see now bare no resemblance to the ones my father kept though. In fact, they are nothing like I have ever seen before—excluding that day I followed Rachel and Santana into the school gym. Straining to focus past a puff of steam coming from the chemistry table I think I can see the same weapon—if that's what it is—that Rachel had been holding that day in the gym.

There is music coming from the back of the room beyond the weapons cage. Blasting at full volume, the music sounds like it must be coming from a rather impressive sound system. The thumping base of the gritty R&B track is full and rumbles just a little in my chest.

My eyes skate past every surface in the room over and again. Maybe if I just look at everything enough times then everything will suddenly make sense. Santana's laugh breaks into my stunned stupor and my jaw closes with an audible snap. When I turn to her I realise that she must have been standing right beside me, watching my face the whole time.

"Yeah, Britt's lab is always a bit of a jaw dropper for new recruits."

"Britt?" I ask completely confused. "Britt as in Brittany? Your Brittany runs this…lab?"

Santana frowns at my referring to Brittany _that_ way and I know it's a habit I need to break but I can't think of another way of framing the question at the moment.

Santana does't bother mentioning whether or not Brittany is _hers_, "Brittany is the head technician and Tina is the lead chemist. So I guess it's technically Britt _and_ Tina's lab. But since Tina is usually locked away in the Chem lab through that door," she gestures towards a door to the right which I had failed entirely to notice. "This is pretty much Brittany's domain."

I nod as though anything she says is making sense to me. I truly hope that things will become clearer soon. I keep half expecting the walls to suddenly slide back and for some dickhead with a camera to run out screaming that I've been punk'd.

Everything looks so real though. Maybe I got hit on the head before I reached Glee Club and this is all just an elaborate dream.

Santana looks at me as though checking that I'm not about to faint or something before stepping towards the source of the music.

Santana yells out above the noise, "Hey Britt, honey you've got a visitor," the music turns down slightly. "Britt? Bring that big brain of yours out here so we can run these tests and get Quinn training already."

The music turns lower again and I hear the sound of a computer chair rolling across linoleum. A moment later Brittany steps around the corner, into the room proper. She's wearing a white lab coat and I almost laugh out loud at the dark framed glasses she's wearing. Her hair's up in the usual Cheerios ponytail. She looks like a science geek. Or at least, she looks like a hot cheerleader _pretending_ to be a science geek for Halloween or something.

Brittany smiles widely at me running over to wrap me up in a tight hug, "Hey Quinn, I'm so glad you're gonna be a part of A.R.H too. It's gonna be so much fun."

Santana rolls her eyes at Brittany's enthusiasm, obviously still finding her ex-girlfriend at least a little bit adorable.

I let Brittany finish her hug, even returning it. My arms are stiff and awkward and I'm not sure if that's because of the situation or just because I've become so unaccustomed to people touching me.

Not wanting to dwell on the question I ask another, "What exactly is RHA? And why is everyone just _assuming_ that I'll want to be involved? I mean, come on we're seniors in high school for goodness sake. Haven't we got enough to worry about?"

Brittany only answers the last part of my question, "Well you won't have to worry about graduating high school. RHA is making sure all our certificates are completed. Well everyone's but mine. They're having me stay behind another year to continue recruitment." she says all of this as though it's the most obvious and normal thing imaginable.

I shake my head, pressing one hand to my eyes hoping that when I reopen them things will suddenly become clearer, "And what the hell does that mean?" I look to Santana, "Can one of you please just lay it out for me? Because I'm not sure how much more of this I can stand." I feel confused anger rising in me and I really don't want to start yelling at my friends if I can help it.

Santana is smiling at me as though she is about to tell me the best secret ever.

My patience is running extremely short, "Come on Santana just spit it the fuck out already."

"Jeez Q," Santana laughs. "I guess you can wash out the pink hair and scrub off the nicotine stains and _still_ have a little bit of skank in you." I glare at her until she lifts her hands in front of her as if surrendering. "Hey, cool your jets your Quinn-ness all good things in time. Let's just get the tests started and I'll explain everything."

"What kind of tests? Why is this even necessary? What am I doing here?" I'm coming to the point of serious anger here and Santana knows it.

She lowers her hands to cross her arms across her chest, "Look, just trust me Q. You _want_ to be in on this. I promise you. But these tests are going to take forever and if we don't get them started now then you won't get home before curfew—"

"You'll have to renegotiate those by the way," Brittany interrupts.

"Um, yeah," Santana looks mildly put off by the interruption. "Please just trust me Quinn. It'll be worth it."

I hesitate. I probably shouldn't trust her. The number of times that Santana has screwed me over for one reason or another is ridiculous. She's always been my second in command but only because she was aiming to be better than me.

I'm ready to shut them both down and demand to be let out of the building but then I look closer into Santana's expression. She has a smile shining from her eyes. Not the sneaky smile she hides when she's up to no good. Not the shy lovey smile that she used to direct at Brittany. But a sure smile like she is ready to face whatever comes at her.

I think back to how Santana has been this year around me, around Brittany. I think about how she's grown as a person since Junior year. I realise that the Santana in front of me now is a completely different person to the one that would gladly stab me in the back for a chance to be at the top of he pyramid. This Santana cares about me. She said as much when she and Britt approached me under the bleachers at the beginning of the year.

Finally, I nod my silent agreement. It's potentially a terrible idea but I'm not in the habit of playing it safe any more. I'm braver and I'm ready to face whatever comes my way.

At my nod Brittany gives a little clap and a happy squeal. The smile that was hiding in Santana's eyes spreads as she lets that scrunchy-happy-face consume her features, laughing whole heartedly at Brittany's excitement. I can't help but laugh too because sometimes Santana is such a goof-ball.

Brittany takes my hand and guides me to the right side of the room to yet another door I had failed to notice. Coach Sue will kill me if she finds out how unobservant I have become. I guess the skills I developed through that insane paramilitary training she put us through have, without practice, waned. Much like my(once spectacular) abs the skills have softened without regular use.

The door has the letters PFBS written across it in what looks suspiciously like crayon. I look at Brittany speculatively as she puts her hand on the handle before turning to me.

She shrugs, "They wouldn't authorize for a proper sign so I used my sister's twisty crayons as a placeholder til I get my sign."

She pushes the door open before I can think of an appropriate response. On the other side is a small room containing a large machine that looks a lot like an MRI machine. Or at least like an MRI machine as imagined by Brittany pierce(if she had just discovered Steampunk).

There are large cogs, wheels and pistons with metal tubes running throughout. I can also see a few panels of plastic containing fine wiring and circuitry reminiscent of a computer chip or motherboard. Every piece of visible plastic—of which there is actually very little—seems to be embedded with glitter.

I think of the letters written on the door, "Pierce Full Body Scanner?" I try putting words to the letters.

"Well I wanted Pierce's Fandangled People Quantifying Machine but apparently it doesn't sound science-y enough," she shoots a small glare at Santana who rolls her eyes.

"You know Corcoran will never take you seriously if you keep giving her gadgets with the word Fandangled in the name Britt," Santana closes the door behind us. "Remember the deatomiser you gave her? You labeled it as a 'Fireworks Thingy' and she took off Sugar's arm. Literally."

A shudder runs through Brittany's whole body as though remembering something really unpleasant, "I gave Sugar a new one didn't I?" she says a little defensively. "But yeah, I guess I probably shouldn't have left something that explodes things into particles sitting on Shelby's desk." Britt approaches a computer mounted on the side of her machine, chewing her lip as she presses buttons, "Maybe I could leave a note with some instructions next time."

Santana laughs, "Well, sure maybe next time you invent a wicked make-big-things-into-a million-little-things gun, you'll leave a note."

Brittany nods thoughtfully before, with a flourish she hits one last button on the computer and turns to me, "Okay Quinn, into the Fandangled People Quantifier. You don't have any metal replacement parts right? Like, a new knee or hip? Or maybe a metal bit in the new nose you got before you got to Lima?"

I shake my head both at her question and at the conversation I had just been witness to, "Did you really invent a gun that explodes things? And what do you mean you gave sugar a new arm?"

I must be dreaming. It's the only explanation. I discreetly pinch the inside of my arm and it hurts. Oh shit.

Brittany sighs and moves behind me to guide my unresponsive body toward the machine. The flat bed in the centre of the machine is long enough for a person to lie down on. She spins me around and pushes me back so that my knees bend and I'm forced into a seated position. I shuffle myself back automatically and Brittany instructs me to lie down.

I look up at the machine and swallow nervously, "It's not going to hurt is it?"

Brittany smiles, "So long as you don't have any secret animatronics you'll be fine."

I'm about to laugh when I realise that she is completely serious and I swallow dryly yet again.

Brittany disappears from my view and I feel a thrill of panic as a low vibration starts up below and above me.

The machine is whirring to life as Brittany presses yet more buttons on her computer. The sound of at least three switches being thrown seems to indicate some kind of start and I can actually see the machine come to life above me.

Light, heat and sound scatter off from the machinery. Pistons move, wheels turn and cogs connect flawlessly as if in an enigmatic dance. There is a low light emitting from a small globe of fluid nestled in the mechanics just above my head.

I'm distracted from my fear as I watch the beautiful display above me and feel the gentle rumble of mechanics below me. It's almost beautiful in its complexity.

Brittany calls me back to reality, "It was an atomizer." she says without preamble or explanation.

"I'm sorry what?"

"It was an atomizer. Much more refined than a simple make-things-go-boom gun."

I glance down towards my feet and realize that Britt is answering one of the questions I'd asked earlier.

She continues, "And I replaced Sugar's atomized arm with a Mechanized Humanoid Interface. Or at least that's what Shelby wants me to call it. I want to go with 'Cyborg Flesh Replicant'. Shelby says that the shareholders won't like the word flesh. Or the word cyborg."

I can understand how some people might be put off by the word flesh but more importantly, "There are shareholders? This place is a part of a company?"

There is a small silence in which I assume Brittany nods, "Yup. A-R-H stands for Arkham, Regerson and Hastein. Santana and the boys like to say that it stands for—"

Brittany is interrupted by Santana's voice as she ducks her head down to look at Quinn, "Alice's Rabbit Hole." she says with a wide grin.

I raise an eyebrow and Brittany smirks at Santana, "As I was saying, Santana and the BOYS like to call it Alice's Rabbit Hole because it sounds a little dirty."

Santana interjects again, a little defensively, "Plus it totally fits. This place is random and bizarre. Just like Carol's wonderland." she ducks her head down again, "Yes, Quinn I've read a book. Even one as ridiculous as Alice in Wonderland." I smile despite myself.

Brittany continues, "I think it sounds like a law firm but officially they're a 'New Technology Development House'. All that really means is that they release a new piece of technology every now and then. They eventually sell that new tech to the highest bidder and then distribute the profits amongst the shareholders and company directors."

I nod even though Brittany is no longer looking at me. I wonder if she can see me through the computer she keeps going to on the side of the machine.

"So that's it?" I ask incredulously. "You develop new technology? Then why am I here?"

I hear Santana laugh but Brittany is the one to answer again, "Well, there are a few divisions within the company. New Tech is just my division and Tina is in charge of Chemistry. I develop new weapons and other useful tools for capturing or exterminating the er… wildlife that Santana, Rachel and their team hunt on their day to day."

I'm thoroughly confused, "So you guys are what, hunting wild cats or something."

I think back to what I had heard and seen in the gym just a few days ago. "No, something bigger. Messier." Brittany and Santana remain silent as though waiting for me to come to my own conclusions.

I pause again to go over what I know. Brittany and Tina seem to be in charge of some sort of high tech research laboratory. Brittany being in charge of mechanics and technology while Tina heads some kind of chemical research department. It's easy to imagine Tina as some kind of Super Chemist. And as bizarre as it seems I had often wondered if Brittany's 'dumb blonde' routine wasn't really just an act. The more I think about it the more I'm sure I have seen brilliant-Brittany shining through, even at school but especially when it was just us three hanging out.

All the other people who had greeted me on my entrance to A.R.H. are harder to fit into an overall picture.

Shelby Corcoran seems to be something of a boss around here. I wonder what is happening with Beth if Shelby is in charge of an operation like this. It's hard to imagine my little girl is getting much time with her adoptive mother under these circumstances.

I push the thoughts to one side, knowing that Shelby would make sure that Beth is taken care of no matter what.

Mike, Puck and Sam had been there when I first stumbled in after Rach and Santana. I figure they must be the muscle or something similar, although Mike is pretty smart. Blain, Jesse StJames and Sugar are certainly an unexpected addition and I couldn't even begin to explain their presence.

I decide to start my questions with the two girls who brought me here in the first place, "So how is it that Rachel and Santana are like 'Agents' or whatever?"

Santana scoffs, "I told you she was joking about that Q."

Brittany scolds her gently, "San that's not totally true. You and Rach are agents, we just aren't big with the whole identifying-senior-officers or whatever thing. It's true, that Rachel and Santana are 'Agents'. What _that_ means is that they're in charge of all the Lieutenants like Sam, Jesse and Mike."

Santana interjects again, "Not to mention Puck, Other Gay and Rich Bitch Motta. Who are totally Plebs compared to me and Britts here."

"And of course, I outrank Santana and Rachel both." Brittany concludes a little smugly.

Santana splutters indignantly, "Only barely. I mean you earn barely more than I do."

I can practically feel Brittany's smile, "Whatever you want to tell yourself San."

I'm glad that they are capable of this friendly back and forth again. But I would also like more answers.

Before I can figure out how to frame a single question Brittany steps out of my view and flicks several switches causing most of the movement above me to stop. The machine whirs and clinks to a stop and the room surrounding it goes quiet. I suppose it was quiet the whole time but without the machine noises echoing around, my attention is drawn to it.

I hear someone typing at yet more buttons and then Brittany comes back into view. I ask how much longer the tests are going to take. I know that there are some slightly more important questions for me to ask but this is the simplest one I have available.

Santana taps my shin and I sit up, scooting forward and out of the arch of Brittany's machine. I'm surprised at how quickly I'm becoming accustomed to the strangeness of things, even the machines that are apparently Brittany's own inventions.

Santana stands to one side of me, "Yeah have you got enough yet?" she asks Brittany. "I wanna show her the pit and then take her down to admin so we can get Q trained and mission ready. With any luck Berry will have a full run down of the situation in Japan and we'll have something interesting to get into."

Brittany is standing in front of her computer again, her eyebrows pinched. She has a hand held computer device held up to the main monitor. The rectangular device looks a little like an iPad but—just like the machine I'm still sitting on—it is much more mechanical and complicated looking. It includes a plethora of visible parts and is actually emitting a fine stream of steam into the air. Brittany is holding it by a handle that juts out from one side. The widest side which facing her is giving off a low shine, illuminating her face, and reflecting off her glasses.

Brittany holds the device up to her computer monitor. The program she is looking at on the main monitor seems to be showing a diagram of my own body as well as an endless stream of data including analysis on my blood and vitals. Brittany strokes her finger tips along the surface of the screen, flicking the images and streaming data towards her hand-held computer—tablet—thing. The whole program interface seems to shift suddenly from

one screen to the next with barely more than a flicker.

I can't help the impressed scoff that slips past my lips. I'd seen something similar in some SciFi movie Sam had made me watch while we were dating but I'd never actually seen anything like it in real life.

Brittany turns to Santana and me with a smile, "You can take her now San. I have everything I need."

"Finally," Santana gripes. She takes my hand, forcing me to stand.

I'm dragged towards the door but before we can make it through, Brittany calls out to Santana, "Make sure you have her back in an hour so Tina can apply the Chems okay?"

I see Santana roll her eyes playfully as she throws a "Yeah, yeah, I will Britt," over her shoulder.

She guides me through the door and back into the main lab. Now that I've gotten up close and personal with one of Brittany's(it still trips me out) machines, I can recognise her style in nearly every object scattered across tables and shelves around me.

Curiosity forces the question past the millions of others, "Did Britt build everything that's in here? Or does she have a team or something?"

Santana slows down only slightly, "Um, well Brittany invented pretty much everything in _here_. I don't know how much of it she built personally. Most of it I think. I mean she doesn't really like other people working in her lab so I guess she does most things herself."

I struggle to wrap my head around this insight into the person I'm coming to think of as Brilliant-Britt, "So she builds like, incredible machines with technology straight out of Science Fiction movies but she couldn't pass Sophomore Computer Technology?"

Santana frowns a little as we approach the door opposite the one we just came through, "That's different. Britt imagines new things and builds them."

I puzzle over this explanation. It makes a certain sense when I think about Brittany and the way her mind seems to work. She believes in magic and unicorns and imagines incredible things. She understands people and she obviously understands how things(including machines) fit together. So Brittany is a secret genius. Okay then.

Santana pulls me through the door and down another long hallway lit from all sides.

"What's with all the lights?" I ask since it's been puzzling me.

"Vampires," Santana says simply. "They're UV lights that'll burn anything sensitive to sunlight. Won't instantly turn em into a pile of dust like sunlight will but it'll certainly slow em down some."

I laugh, "Oh yeah, sure. What about werewolves? Do you have silver rain from the ceiling too?"

I'm completely joking but of course Santana looks at me like she's considering my joke as a suggestion. Finally she shakes her head, "Nah, it'd probably just piss them off more than anything else."

I blink one, twice and then again as I process what she's just said.

Before I can get past the whole vampires-are-a-thing we have reached another closed door. This one has a keypad next to it and Santana enters the same code she used to get from the foyer into Britt's Lab. The door itself has several signs on it warning about 'Critters' inside. I've no idea what that could mean but I guess I have no choice but to follow Santana at this point.

The door clicks open and I peer inside, bracing myself for any possibility. Apparently this is unnecessary though as we simply enter a small room with yet another door at the other side of it. Santana lets go of my hand and places hers against my lower back to guide me through the door. I'm annoyed at her leading me about like a child but I step through the door regardless.

She steps through after me and closes the door, "Now, Q I'm gonna have to give you a quick inoculation because the little guys in her, though cute are a little prone to biting."

She walks to the left of the small room where a shallow bench stands below a small cabinet like you would see in a regular bathroom. It doesn't have a mirror though, just a door which Santana pulls open to reveal rows of what look like hypodermic needles. I feel my eyes go wide and when Santana turns to me she looks decidedly amused at my expression.

"Oh don't be a baby Quinn, It's not even gonna hurt. Okay maybe a little but Tina's Chems are gonna hurt a whole lot more, I guarantee it. Now roll up your sleeve."

I feel another bolt of fear shoot through me. Even though this is Santana and I ultimately know that she wouldn't actively try to hurt me—unless we were in an honest fist fight—I'm intimidated by the sight of the needle.

"Wha—What's in the needle?"

"Just an inoculation like I said," Santana shrugs. "I'm trying to ease you into this whole thing gradually but we're kinda working against the clock here."

I shake my head a little, "But why can't you just tell me what's going on without all the needles and tests and crazy rooms full of stuff I don't understand? Why aren't we just discussing this over a coffee at the Lima Bean or something? I mean, come on can't you see how scary all this stuff might seem to me?"

Santana's expressions softens and she places the needle back down on the shallow bench top beside her, "I'm sorry Quinn. I guess I've forgotten how weird all this stuff is to an outsider."

I scowl a little at the word outsider. How can I be an outsider to something that involves almost the whole Glee Club? I mean, I'm Quinn Fabray HBIC. I could put that shit on my resume. Yet here I am completely unawares and completely out of my depth. Sure I kinda went a little crazy after we lost Nationals and I only just started getting back into Glee in a serious way recently but...surely I'm still me. Surely I'm still in the loop.

I feel something warm on my cheeks and I brush at whatever it is with the back of my hand.

Tears.

I'm crying and I hardly understand why. Am I really that isolated from everyone that I missed all the secrets that my friends had been keeping. Here they were, more than half the Glee Club involved in some secret facility that...that does something I can't even begin to understand. And I had no idea.

Santana looks at me with true sympathy. She closes the gap between us and wraps her arms around me, "Hey, don't cry. I promise It'll all make sense soon. Especially once Tina runs her Chems through your system."

I let her hug me, linking my own arms around her shoulders, "But—but you said that Tina's Chem—" I stumble over the unfamiliar terminology. "Tina's Chems would hurt."

"Well yeah," Santana laughs, running one hand up and down my back. "But it'll make you feel better and we'll be able to explain everything properly. I promise."

She gives me one more strong squeeze and I find that I do feel better. She leans back far enough to kiss my cheek and then my forehead. I feel a familiar thrill at the contact. Santana has always caused such strong reactions in me. Anger, hate, love. It all mixes into one whenever I'm around her.

When she steps back from me, my tears have stopped and I feel distinctly embarrassed.

"Fine," I say, steeling myself for an injection that I know will probably hurt. "Hurry up and give me that injection before I have another embarrassing break down," I gesture towards the needle on the counter that I know nothing about, wielded by my best friend who I can only hope is on my side.

I close my eyes and feel Santana step into my personal space again. I remind myself that I trust Santana, that she is my friend and that she wouldn't hurt me.

She pulls at the left side of my sweater, exposing my upper arm. I feel a streak of cool pull over my skin as Santana wipes what must be an alcohol swab over my skin. I hold my breath and try not to flinch or cry out when Santana stabs the needle into my arm. There is an uncomfortable ache that spreads under my skin and then the needle is gone.

I open my eyes and see Santana disposing of the needle in a small container under the bench.

"Are you ready?" she asks.

"What for?"

Santana grins, "The cutest little critters you've ever seen.


End file.
